Chapter 8 – The Monster's Cage.
Disclaimer – If anyone wishes to sue me, they will find that I own my clothes, and a laptop. That's it. Seriously, Mr. Bruckheimer, Mr. Petersen, you'd pay more for the legal fees than what you'd make from the settlement. Please don't bother.
Notes – Spoilers ahoy for all seasons! After this chapter I will require reviews. I can't write another word until I know that I'm moving in the right direction. (I have a massive insecurity problem. The only cure is reviews, good, bad, praise, flames, whatever.)
Looking through the interrogation room's two-way mirror, Sara Sidle could observe quite a few things. One of those things was that Kyle Andrews was big. Very big. The epitome of bigness. As if she hadn't already noticed this in the crime lab corridor.
Another thing was that, unlike many of the Las Vegas police department's other suspects, Kyle Andrews was standing in the far corner of the room, rather than sitting in a chair at the steel table. It didn't take her long to figure out that that was because the chairs that they had wouldn't support his weight.
The last thing was that Kyle Andrews was standing underneath the higher windows in the room, with the afternoon sunlight falling down in front of him, as his face was shrouded in darkness by the shade. All of these things combined to reverse the intended effect of the interrogation room, making the cops and CSI's feel more intimidated than the suspect.
Sighing gently, Sara focused on the conversation taking place inside the room. Catherine Willows was asking if Mr. Andrews had ever heard of a Conrad Ecklie.
"Of course I have. If you're even remotely competent you'll have found my prints all over his house. I'm just surprised it took you this long to find it out."
Catherine hadn't expected the suspect to admit knowing Ecklie, but she was not fazed. "Care to tell us what your relationship was with Conrad Ecklie?"
"Certainly. He's a friend of a friend of mine. We met once, at his house, to discuss business, and I've seen him around Vegas occasionally."
"You said 'A friend of a friend.' Who's your other friend?" Warrick chipped in.
"That would be the other person whose prints you found at Ecklie's house. The ones you're having so much trouble with on that little AFIS toy of yours." Andrews smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile. "Asking me for his identity is, naturally, a waste of time."
But that wasn't what Catherine had picked up on. "How do you know about our problems with AFIS?"
"Because you've just admitted it. Next question." Kyle Andrews relaxed against the wall. Was it Sara's imagination, or did it groan slightly?
Catherine, meanwhile, was losing her patience. This guy knew what was going on inside the lab, and he wasn't telling her everything. How could he possibly have known about the Compliance print? He had to have an inside source. That must be who the print belonged to. But who was the source?
"Fine." snapped Nick. "What kind of business were you and Ecklie discussing?"
"No business that's any of your business, my corn-on-the-cob chewing friend."
Nick snarled. This guy was really starting to piss him off. Just before he could comment on Kyle's hillbilly beard and mention a pot and a kettle, the door opened and Margaret Finn, the world's most lovable public defender, glided inside.
"This conversation stops now, and any further questions can be directed to my cell phone. My client and I are leaving now, detectives." Clearly she was feeling especially cuddly today.
"I don't recall asking for a lawyer." Kyle Andrews growled, all charm and grace gone in an instant.
Margaret faltered. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. Her client was supposed to smile (gratefully at her, smugly at the police), and she was meant to bring the interrogation to an abrupt end. She couldn't have heard correctly.
"Mr. Andrews, I am to represent you as legal..."
"Get. Out." Kyle stood up, speaking in a flat, cold voice that Nick was privately grateful not to have directed at him. Margaret Finn promptly decided on discretion as the better part of valour, leaving the interrogation room as quickly as humanly possible.
Catherine, having allowed this latest development to fully register, spoke up. "Mr. Andrews, I think accepting legal council is the smartest move you can make right n..."
"When I want your opinion, stripper, I'll be sure to give you one and make you recite it word for fucking word!" Andrews was snarling now, all composure gone.
"HEY!" Warrick had had enough. "Can we get on with this? And do it in a way that at least approaches civilised?"
The giant man backed down slightly, and seemed to cool off. "Excellent idea. From now on, I will talk to you one-to-one, and I will try not to make this more unpleasant than it needs to be."
Warrick allowed a tiny part of himself to relax. All right. Now they were getting somewhere. He spoke with deliberate calm, forcing himself to be patient. "Okay. Now, why did you just turn down Ms. Finn's assistance?"
"Because I have nothing but absolute contempt for defence lawyers. That slut is not worthy to be in the same room as me, therefore I demanded her to vacate it."
Kyle was speaking in the same calm tone as Warrick, but it carried an undercurrent of contained rage that chilled the veteran CSI to his core. This was great. Not only was this guy their most likely suspect for a brutal killing (and possibly not his only one), but now it also looked like he had a superiority complex and was a psychopath besides.
"How about Ecklie's wife, Angela? You have a problem with her, too? You think she might not be worthy to be in your presence either?" Warrick knew that taunting might be counterproductive, but couldn't resist getting a shot in.
Rather than flare up again, the big man smiled easily. "Angela. Yes, we had our...disagreements. You might be more concerned about another woman that you in particular, I believe, were acquainted with, Brownie."
Warrick's eyes narrowed. ""What the hell does that mean?
Andrews looked momentarily confused. But only momentarily. "You don't know yet? Wait, the time's 5.30...Ahhh." and here his face brightened with vicious pleasure. "You wouldn't know yet. You'll see. And I think you'll be..."
"Cut the crap, pal, and drop the cute hints." Nick was losing his temper. "What are you talking ab..."
"DO NOT INTERRUPT ME EVER AGAIN, REDNECK!" Kyle roared at the top of his considerable voice. Every person in the room associated with law enforcement (including Sara behind the mirror) jumped back like they had been zapped with a cattle prod. As the echoes died down, and Nick tried to stop himself shaking too visibly, a casual observer would have noted the fact that the usual hubbub of the crime lab had stopped.
When Kyle spoke up, it was in the same mock-gentle tone he had been using with Warrick. "As I was saying, you will see, very shortly. And I think you'll be unpleasantly surprised. Until then, let's reminisce about old times."
He turned, slowly, to Catherine. "How is Eddie these days, Cath? I hear you and he have had a little girl. What's her name again? Lindsey?"
Catherine spoke in a voice specifically designed to castrate. "This is the second time you have mentioned Eddie. Now either tell me how you knew him or I will charge you with kidnapping and murder."
Despite his giant size, Kyle looked troubled for the briefest moment. Then the calm mask fell across his features again. "A while ago, back in the days when I was only six foot five, I noticed that quite a few native Vegas folk had developed an unfortunate predilection for cocaine. Edward Willows was one of those people. I occasionally got a hold of some of the white stuff and distributed it for a moderate fee. Towards the end of our relationship Eddie became...especially dependant on me. He mentioned how his wife, Catherine, kept on bitching endlessly at him about it. By then, of course, all he cared about was where the next fix came from. How is he?"
It took all of Catherine's (and Warrick's) self control not to ram her fist into his bearded face. Instead, she said, slowly and deliberately "My husband was killed two years ago."
The calm look was gone instantly, replaced by one of deep regret. "Killed?" The giant man actually looked distressed by this revelation. "I...I didn't know. I am genuinely sorry for your loss. He was a good friend, even if Ionlyknew himthrough the needle." Kyle paused, then added "Do you know how he died?"
Catherine's eyes flashed. "That's none of your concern! All I know is I'm looking at the scumbag who hooked my husband on crack, and probably countless others as well. I don't want your pity. All I want from you right now is an explanation of why we found Angela Ecklie's blood in the back of your truck."
Kyle Andrews no longer looked regretful or commiserating. He looked pissed, and incredibly, hurt. "Your wish is my command, Supervisor Willows. Consider my sympathy withdrawn. As for the blood, you're a CSI, you figure it out." He sounded surprisingly petulant, like a child who'd just had his hand slapped out of the cookie jar.
"Okay." This was Nick, who had gathered himself enough to speak again. "You kidnapped Angela Ecklie, drove her out to the middle of the desert and killed her. And the coroner's report is going to prove it. Now what besides your attitude is standing between you and a lethal injection?"
Kyle recovered in a flash, as he saw something through the interrogation room window, the one that provided a view into the corridor beyond. "You're about to find out..."
And that was when the living vision of paternal anger thundered into the tiny room, slammed an unresisting Kyle Andrews against the far wall and screamed into his face "WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER, YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!"
The vision in question went by the popular name of James Richard Brass. Behind him were Greg Sanders, who didn't look quite as livid as Brass, but it was damn close. Sadly, Brass didn't seem too interested in getting an answer to his question, because he pulled his gun and pressed it tightly to Kyle's head. The big man himself, meanwhile, was icicle cold.
"Kill me and you'll never know."
Slowly, Brass saw the common wisdom in the giant's answer and removed the gun. Behind the window, Sara observed the looks of horrified comprehension and desperate sympathy leaking onto her colleagues' faces. She was suddenly very glad that the mirror was two-way, and that she couldn't see her own expression.
"Where is she?" Brass's voice was calmer now, but still with enough steel behind it to stock a scrap yard.
"She's with my friend, the mysterious dude that you're trying so hard to find." Andrews' grin was the most horrible thing Brass had ever seen in his life. "Did you do as we asked?"
Brass seemed to grow smaller with defeat and despair. "Yes."
"And here I was thinking conspiracy theories weren't the rage anymore." This was from Greg, and there was no humour in his voice. For him, seeing the man who had saved his life become so humble was a like a hole in his guts. Brass was a good man. He had been there right at the moment that Greg had needed him. He had stopped Ecklie from killing him.
This was torture. No man deserved this, least of all Brass.
"If you've torpedoed the case against Ecklie, all you have to do now is finish the job by letting me go. If I get to a certain pay phone within" he checked the clock again "one hour, then you'll get her back. Otherwise she's gone forever."
Throughout this casually vicious pronouncement, Kyle Andrews didn't raise his voice one decibel. Catherine spoke up. "What assurance do we have that you'll keep you word?"
"None. This is my offer. Take it or leave it." Not a trace of human emotion. "In case you're wondering, Brownie, this is what I meant by 'someone you were acquainted with.'"
"What happens after that?" Warrick was growling the words out.
"That's up to the mysterious dude." Kyle grinned teasingly.
"You mean Philip Gerard?"
Kyle's grin died.
Dr. Gilbert Grissom had entered the interrogation room utterly unnoticed. It was his voice that had made that last announcement. But it was almost unrecognisable to Sara, who watched from behind the glass. Normally, Grissom's voice was calm, considerate, sometimes flat and emotionless. Now, every syllable was dripping with rage and pain. And as Sara put a face to the name Philip Gerard, she knew why.
Grissom, meanwhile, was not done talking. "I guess I'll never know how you, or maybe he, managed to delete his fingerprint record from AFIS, but it certainly explains why the prints themselves came up Compliance, as Gerard used to work in this very lab, before he retired. And we wasted all that time thinking it was somebody that was still here, when all the time it was my, and Ecklie's, old mentor." Grissom's voice was thick with fury.
His wasn't the only one. "Clever boy, Grissom." Kyle rumbled menacingly. "You know who it is. Big deal. The offer stands. What's it going to be? The girl, or an arrest?"
Kyle leaned forward until his face filed Grissom's vision. His eyes were two empty pits.
"Your call, Doctor."
AN: Like I said at the top, I need just a couple more reviews to know that I am going in the right direction. Any reviews, praise, flames whatever, are welcome. I would prefer constructive criticism, though.
PS: wdbydoglvr and kegel, please, please, please forgive me for taking so damn long. University stuff is getting in the way.